Castiel Returns
by Primipassi
Summary: The story of how the Angel, who went MIA finds his way back to his home - Dean. A Destiel story. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N**: I've been working on this story for about a week now, and I've already gotten quite a lot done. This is basically going from the latest episode, almost as though it were an episode/s itself. _

_This is my first Supernatural Fic, but I plan for it to be a big one :) _

_Please, leave a Review letting me know if you like it! _

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><p>A young, blond woman wandered around the woods, the air thick with cold, moist air, and the darkness of night encasing her in a ten foot parameter of sight. She breathed out, and her breath clouded the air around her as she walked with a tense gait from the cold air suffocating her joints. She could barely make out the river up ahead a few feet, and sighed,<p>

"That necklace should be around here som-" she was cut off when she ran into something near the waters edge, and tripped, landing on the ground with a pronounced thud. She groaned slightly, her hands and legs muddy. However, she quickly moved her thoughts to the thing that tripped her as she caught sight of pale skin. She swiftly jerked up to her hands and knees, and now saw that there was a body beneath her. She pulled back, and fell onto her butt in surprise. Before she even thought of screaming, her doctor side kicked in, and she maneuvered back towards the body, turning it onto its back to press two fingers to the body's pale neck.

"Oh my god," she muttered, almost silently as she took in the sight of the soaked body. She could now make out that the person had dark hair, and was wearing a casual suit jacket with matching pants. It was a man. She waited to see if there was a pulse, but her heart was pounding too hard for her to feel anything, so she instead leaned towards the man's slightly parted lips, and opened them a bit wider to listen for breathing. She went completely silent as she listened. Suddenly, she felt the slightest bursts of warm air hit her ear, and her breath caught as her eyes widened,

"Oh my god," she reiterated, "Oh god, he's alive," her voice began to raise in volume, and she quickly raised to her feet, running back into the trees,

"Help!" she yelled, "Somebody, I need help!" she was running, now.

A few feet away from the body, a small necklace glinted at its resting place on the smooth pebbles, despite the lack of light in the sky. It was a golden cross.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** This chapter was slightly painful to write - but it had to be done. _

_I hope you enjoy it!_

_**Warning**: A little gore, but if you've watched Supernatural, it's probably nothing you can't take. _

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own SPN, or any of its characters. If I did, I wouldn't have to be writing this. _

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><p>"No! No, don't hurt them!" Castiel yelled from inside his vessel as the Leviathan flung the people who meant the most to him against the wall like rag dolls, "Please! Leave them alone!" he begged, his voice cracking hopelessly.<p>

Suddenly, something horrible surrounded and encased his grace, and he lost all ability to speak as a penetrating cold suffocated him. He couldn't scream or yell, anymore, only watch on in pain. He just barely noticed it as the Leviathan made it's way slowly through the hallways of the building, although he felt a slight, short-lived relief when he noticed that the Leviathan had let Dean, Sam, and Bobby live.

The next thing he knew, his ability to see where his vessel was being taken was completely removed from him, leaving him in complete darkness. It was now that things got much, much worse. He felt his wings being forced open painfully wide, and the cold encasing his grace that had stopped him from making a sound disappeared.

He realized what was coming a second too late as his wings began to be shredded, and he almost forgot how to scream for a second as unbearable pain left him utterly speechless. That didn't last for long as the high pitched screech of an angel left his body, and he thrashed with everything in him to get away.

He wanted to cry, but no tears came as his wings continued to be brutally attacked. He felt his legs become wet and realized as his wings were lashed at over, and over that his vessel must be in the water. His screeches rose in pitch, before they fluctuated back to his human voice to cry out,

"Help! Make it stop!" speaking in this way scorched his grace, but he forced himself to keep speaking,

"Please!" He croaked, and strained as he felt his very grace being attacked now, "Somebody, help me!" his wings were covered in his blood, and though he couldn't see it, he felt the slippery golden liquid seeping through his feathers. Then, he felt teeth rip into his left wing,

"Dean!" he screamed, and suddenly, the white pain that was shooting through his grace and wings somehow found its way behind his eye lids as his dream came to an abrupt close. His body shot up from the dream, his chest rising and falling quickly as a habit from inhabiting his vessel for so long.

The first thing he noticed was the soft, white sheets he was tucked under, and the thin tubes connected to his wrists. He looked around, confused, his head tilted slightly to the side and his eye brows furrowed slightly as his breath slowed back to a normal pace. He scanned the small, clean white room he was in. He was in...a Hospital? He had been at one on another occasion, but this one was obviously a bit different.

He slowly fell back down to the bed, and stared at the ceiling, unblinking as the memories fled back, and he realized when his wings clenched in pain when he came to the shredding part, that his dream hadn't been a dream – it was what had actually happened. As more memories flooded back to him, he almost wished he could block them from returning – banish them completely forever, but he knew he deserved them.

He had released the leviathans, and because of him, Bobby, Sam...and _Dean_ had almost been killed. The whole world was in trouble, now, and it was all his doing. He felt something begin stir inside him, and he realized this was the first time he was feeling something that wasn't related to Dean in any way.

This feeling was towards himself, and because of himself. He felt a heat building in his vessel's face, and an overwhelming urge to scream and sob almost got the best of him. He quickly got a handle of himself, however, as he moved his thoughts back to Dean, Sam, and Bobby. The Leviathans had let them go...but they'd acted like they were the first one on their list to eat.

Castiel let his eyes float closed, stubbornly ignoring the pain in his grace and wings as he tried to focus what little power he had on honing in on Dean's soul. Dean and himself had...a more profound bond. He'd raised him from Perdition, after all, and there is no connection two beings could have that's quite the same as that. Even on the most...intimate of levels.

Castiel let his wings float open full span (still invisible, other than a shadow, of course) to help him scan for the man's soul, hoping that no one would come in. His proverbial breath hitched as he felt his wings quiver in pain. The Leviathans had really taken a number out on them, and it was taking them quite a while to heal.

He continued, however, to search for that familiar feeling of Dean's soul. He felt a little jolt of relief wash over his grace when he found that familiar hum of Dean's soul. He frowned, however, when he finally locked onto it. He could tell that Dean was agitated, and overwhelmed – he could feel him, but he just couldn't make out his location.

His wings had started to shake in strain as he pushed himself harder, trying to pin point Dean's where-a-bouts. He clenched his teeth together, his wings creating a low hum in the room, and yet Castiel still could only get a very fuzzy, untranslatable, reading. When his bed started to also shake beneath him, along with his wings, he decided it would be a logical choice to stop before he attracted someone's attention.

As his body relaxed back into the bed, he felt an odd desire to close his eyes take over his body. Too tired, and overworked to fight this human desire, he let his eyes slide shut, and for the first time ever, he allowed sleep to overtake him.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N**: This chapter may be a tad short, but chapter three promises to be a particularly long one :D_

_Read & Review!_

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own SPN~ _

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><p>When Castiel next woke up, it was due to a woman entering the room from the wooden door. Castiel opened his eyes just enough to make out that she had an odd matching teal colored top and pants. She sauntered towards Castiel, and offered him a friendly smile as she realized that the one in her charge was now awake,<p>

"Why, hello there, Sir, glad to see you're awake!" she exclaimed gleefully, and turned to pick up a remote and flip the black screen of what humans called TV to life, most likely as a ritual when a person was found to be awake. Castiel inclined his head slightly in a failed attempt at a nod. The woman gave him a quick look over, and reached towards one of the things hanging next to the bed he was lying on, giving it a discreet glance, before looking back at Castiel, the TV flashing images behind her head,

"Well, all of your levels are good, so I'd say you'll be out of here by tomorrow morning," she claimed, and Castiel again gave a half-heart-ed nod. Her gaze turned empathetic, and she didn't speak for a moment,

"Sir, it's okay if you can't, this hospital offers services to everyone, even if they don't have money, or have...problems, but if you can manage to remember your name...we may be able to find some family,"she offered. Castiel glanced over to her green eyes that suddenly reminded him too much of someone, and so he decidedly looked away. He could ask for their help to find Dean and Sam, but the last time he checked the American legal system, they were supposed to be dead, and that would bring up some real problems. So, instead, Castiel shook his head,

"I digress, I have no recollection of my name," he rumbled in a low tone, struggling feebly to get used to using his voice again. The lady gave him an odd look, the gentle smile faltering ever so slightly, before she shook her head, and grinned again,

"Well, I wish you the best of luck, then, sir," she started, "Now, you best get some more sleep, it's already night time," she said with closure, before she made her way back out of the room. Castiel watched her back as she left, before letting his eyes slide over to the TV, not really watching. He wondered whether he had said something wrong just then, but decided in the end, it didn't matter. When the sun rose, he'd be aloud to go.

As he lay there, he started to think. Think about what he'd done. Think about what he'd become. Thank about why he wasn't dead.

However, mostly, he was thinking about Dean. Dean, at the moment, seemed particularly stressed. Not to mention some of Dean's aggravation he picked up on appeared to be directed towards Sam. They must have had a falling out again. Suddenly, something flickered onto the screen of the TV that caught Castiel's complete attention. It was footage from a camera, and in it were Sam and Dean. Or, at least, he thought it was Sam and Dean, until they suddenly opened fire, and Castiel realized that there were people on the aimed side of their rifles. Whoever these people were, they weren't Sam and Dean. He had a bad feeling that the Leviathans had something to do with it. It was then that a voice in the TV spoke up,

"About two weeks ago, two serial killers, whom were brothers that were supposedly dead and went went by the names Dean and Sam Winchester were finally brought to justice by a small town sheriff," the feminine voice began, "The FBI are closing the case of the brothers now officially, and everyone can sleep a bit sounder now that these two are dead," He gulped, both relieved and worried. So, this most likely _did _have something to do with the Leviathans. This meant that the boys had somehow found a way to harm the Leviathans, which was a good thing. This also meant, however, they were probably going to _much_ harder to find, now. Not to mention that he had _no idea _what he would say when he finally found any of them. What _could_ he say?

He didn't sleep at all that night.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N**: Sorry it took a little while - I had a lot going on. However, I will have the next chapter up right away! Hopefully, the chapter after that will be close behind! Enjoy~!_

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><p>Dean was laying in the passengers side of the car that made him want to puke when he thought about driving it, his head resting against the frame of the window as he watched the dark silhouettes of scenery flash by with an unreadable expression.<p>

Sam, deciding to be the responsible one when they'd went out drinking just before they'd left the town full of every psychic imaginable, was driving the car, and would glance over at him from time to time, a concerned look on his face.

Everything was silent.

Not the comfortable kind of silence where everything is not quite okay, but everyone is willing to just let everything be pushed to the back of their mind and relax.

No, this was most definitely quite the opposite. He could feel Dean thinking, the wheels cranking like a water mill in his brother's mind.

This kind of silence was the kind that made the air feel like you were breathing butter.

Sam shifted a bit in his seat, his hands clenching slightly on the steering wheel as his lips parted with the beginning of words, which were interrupted by Dean,

"Don't," he cut through the air like a knife, his deep, stern voice contradicting the fact that he was only half sober. Sam hesitated a bit, before glancing over at Dean's still form,

"Okay," he said tensely, doing a side nod that could almost be categorized as awkward. His lips tensed into a thin line. He didn't even give a second thought as to how Dean knew he was about to speak – they were brothers, and they knew each other better than anyone. They could read even the most subtle of signals that the other presented, which came in handy during the heat of a hunt.

His mind was now on what he knew was bothering Dean. Before they'd finished the hunt in the last town, he had finally confronted Sam on his reasoning for killing Amy. Although it was what he said afterwords that concerned Sam, _'Ever since Cas, I'm having a hard time trusting anybody,' _

He had to agree with Dean, to a degree. He'd certainly never expected Castiel, of all people – angels - to betray them. The thing was, he knew Amy was not dead because Dean wasn't sure he could trust her – he would have done the same in any circumstance, regardless. Dean was right – Amy had been a monster, and as much as he hated to admit it, she would've had to kill again, whether the reasons for it could have been justified or not.

And Castiel, in essence hadn't betrayed them – he was only trying to do what he thought was right. Dean had been extremely hypocritical when he'd gotten onto Cass during the time that they'd found out he'd been lying. They'd all been hypocritical, at the time. They'd all lied before – Bobby, Sam, and Dean. Though, to their defense, it _had_ been the end of the world, and Castiel _had_ been working with Crowley.

However, when push came to shove, the playing field is pretty level, and besides Bobby, all three of them had been the catalyst of things that could have very well ended the world. And so far, Castiel had been the one that paid the gravest of prices. He died. Or at least, they think he died. There's no way to know for sure, and they really don't have to time to try to find him, even if he were alive.

He's pretty certain all of these things were rolling around in Dean's mind right now, among an ocean of other, less prominent, concerns.

Sam sighed, and glanced over at his brother once again. Dean had been silent since they'd gotten in the car about four hours ago. None of those were spent sleeping, either, which Sam could tell from the regular pace of his chest rising and falling.

Quite frankly, it was beginning to make him antsy. Out of a desperate need for _some_ kind of noise, he reached over and flipped on the radio. They could only get one station, so Sam settled in as the soft din of a sad sounding song filled the car. Lyrics flowed closely behind:

_I don't wanna die, I don't know why, This kind of fate was meant for gotta be strong, Gotta move on, It's not how it was supposed to do I say, It was never supposed to end up this do I have to do, (I) Was supposed to grow old with that ain't gonna .No that ain't gonna happen. _

Sam was only half listening to the song, since he was driving, and all he cared about was the fact that there was some stimulation for his ears. However, when he heard Dean's breath hitch – something that, coming from Dean, was just a surprising as a sudden scream would be to someone else – he found himself almost veering off the road. Thank God for his quick reflexes.

He glared over at Dean, at first thinking that the noise had been afforded from laughter (because, what else would it be?), but then he saw that Dean was still facing away from him, only now his body quaking. Sam looked back ahead, and started to pull to the side of the road. That was it, he and Dean were going to _have _to talk about this. **Now**.

The car came to a gliding stop before Sam pulled the keys out of the ignition, leaving the brothers in even more silence than while they'd been driving earlier. He looked over at Dean's still shaking body, and sighed,

"Dean..." he began in the most comforting tone he could muster without making this into one of those 'chick flick' moments that Dean hated with such a passion. He didn't particularly find interest in them either, however, he never understood why Dean hated them so much. He often times wondered if he was over-compensating. Dean didn't turn to look at him, but he spoke,

"What?" came a weak, cracked reply, and Sam leaned back a bit more, his arms crossed as he gazed at Dean in an annoyed fashion,

"Dean, you're crying," he said, matter-of-factually,

"Yeah, so?" Dean threw back in a condescending tone. Sam didn't know why. It's not like Dean had anything to prove – at least not to him. Sam rolled his eyes,

"So," he stretched out the word, "You're my brother, I kind of want to know _why_ you're crying so I can, I don't know, do something about it," he perpetrated. He didn't really need Dean to tell him why he was crying – he already knew that. He also knew he couldn't do anything about it, other than try to comfort him, but he knew Dean would appreciate it if he acted like he _didn't_ know all this.

Dean was silent again, other than the shifting of his clothing from his shuddering. Sam sighed. It was obvious this approach wasn't getting him anywhere. It was really bothering him.

When they were young, Dean would do this _same_ thing. He would comfort Sam when he was crying, or when he was hurting, but when it came to doing things the other way around, Dean simply _would not_ allow it. He would always deny that anything was wrong, or would leave for a while. He would try to hide his pain from Sam.

Sam would ask for what reason, but he knew that Dean did it to protect him. What Sam doesn't understand is why Dean thinks he can't handle it _now. _Perhaps when he was younger, and Dad was still alive for Dean to talk to – but now, Dad was gone, and Sam was an adult. Dean really needed to learn how to talk about his feelings, despite how fluffy that may sound.

Sam breathed out with fervor as he opened his door and stepped out, quickly making his way to the other side of the car with long legs. He didn't hesitate to yank Dean's door open wide, his big brother scrambling ungracefully to keep from falling out of the car. Once he was balanced, Dean leaned back on his seat,

"Son of a bitch," he muttered tensely, his voice the slightest bit nasally from crying. His face looked a little red, and there were tears running down his cheeks next to a line of already dried ones. He looked uncomfortable being in this situation. It was obvious from his squirming he felt no better than naked.

Vulnerable.

Sam bent down and fixed his gaze on Dean, who was staring forward stubbornly. Sam would have laughed at how childish Dean was acting, if this weren't such a delicate matter. The fact that Dean had gotten himself drunk was probably the only reason that he was even relaxed enough to allow Sam to do this. Sam picked out his next words carefully before he spoke,

"There's nothing we can do now," he said simply, and that's when Dean did something that he'd never done before, and would probably never, ever do again; he leaned over to Sam, strong arms grabbing at the back of his flannel shirt, and he sobbed into Sam's shoulder.

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><p><em>Well, People have mentioned how they really want to see Dean out-right sob over Cas, and so I thought, why the hell not? <em>

_Any who, I love getting your Reviews :D See you all soon! _


	5. Chapter 5

Dean had woken up the next morning with a killer hangover, so his remedy was to drink periodically from a flask of alcohol he had hidden away inside of his over-sized leather jacket. Sam glared at him every time he'd pull it out, but he didn't really give a crap. He'd stop drinking when Sam stopped getting porn from the internet (Sam didn't know he knew, so Dean thought it would be a good idea to save this advantage for when he'd need it).

They'd stopped by a fast food joint for burgers, where they'd, once again almost been 'mistaken' for Sam and Dean Winchester. The managed to advert that mishap with relative simplicity, mostly due to Sam's quick thinking, and Dean's provocative glance at the waiter, who left for the kitchen after taking their orders giggling like an idiot.

Well, Sam said the 'Like an idiot' part, but Dean had found it kind of endearing, if still a bit annoying. He groaned mentally. Lately, his desire to...get it on with anyone had almost completely disappeared. It's like his libido had been sucked dry. It bothered him, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it.

They were on the road again, on their way to another job, and though he was a little buzzed from the alcohol, he managed to convince Sam to let him drive. He wasn't sure if Sam was aware that he remembered what happened last night, but if he did, he didn't mention it. Dean was grateful for that. He really didn't want to discuss it. He wanted to forget it, actually, but of course, he wouldn't get so lucky.

Dean glanced over to Sam, who was slouched into the passengers side window, snoring slightly. Dean smiled a bit when he remembered the time that he'd stuck a spoon in Sam's mouth, and snapped a picture of it with his cell phone, before blasting the music so loud, Sam shot awake. He looked forward again, and continued driving while he hummed some music that he'd left in the Impala.

However, Dean suddenly got a weird tingling feeling on his upper arm, and he glanced down at it in confusion. This had happened the other day, too, only it was much more obvious. It had been just before he had seen Sam in that wacko psychic restaurant.

Only, then, it had been much more intense, and at the time Dean couldn't tell if it hurt, or if it felt good. When he'd rolled his sleeve up and looked in the mirror, he had been rewarded with the faded hand print on his arm looking a lot redder than he'd last remembered it.

He wondered why the Hell he would be feeling something _there, _of all places, but he pushed it to the side, disregarding it for 'post-traumatic stress, or some shit,' as he had said the other day when Sam had, again, requested to know what was wrong with Dean. He shook his head as the tingling surrounded his arm in an almost comfortable heat, and sighed as he turned down another empty road.

Castiel, having finally made it out of the Hospital, had tried once more to pin-point Dean's location, with no luck. He sighed in defeat, and searched for a nearby motel, where he'd try to get some rest. While the hospital was able to fix the little things, his grace and wings were still pretty battered, and he needed to relax.

It didn't take long for him to find one, but now he was faced with the dilemma of getting in. His wings were still in pain, and using his usual form of transportation would not be particularly enjoyable. However, he still wasn't too good at interacting with people, and he was unsure what he was supposed to do for money.

This dilemma was going to be painful, either way.

He sighed, and decided it would be best to just use what little power he had left to fly into the vacant room he'd scoped out. He stared at the window that was attached to the room fleetingly, thinking as he gathered his energy inside. He wondered exactly what happened to that tan trench coat he'd had on before he'd surfaced on the shore. He supposed it probably floated away in the river, but for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that it hadn't.

He didn't really need it, it just felt abnormal to not have it hanging languidly on his shoulders. He felt like something was missing all the time. An intense heat in the pit of his stomach pulled him from the depths of his thoughts, and back to this time period. He had gathered as much of the power as he could manage. He braced himself, and then flashed his wings, grunting in pain at the millisecond it took to get from the street, into the dank and dark motel room. It wasn't the best, but it had a bed, and it was silent.

He laid down gently onto the bed, easing his sore back onto the bed. He froze, however, when he realized his_ back was sore_. His...back shouldn't be sore. That's what Jimmy was there for – to keep the pain his wings and grace ever felt separate from the physical pains humans felt. If his back was sore from his wings, that meant that the wall between them had...

He stared up at the ceiling in vague horror as he searched for Jimmy inside him.

But there was _nothing_.

Nothing else was there but himself.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N**: Well, Finally done with this chapter :'D And eventually, Dean and Castiel will find each other, it's just a matter of time, so bare with me ;) _

_**Disclaimer**: If I owned SPN, Dean would have cried when Cas went MIA. _

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><p>Castiel laid there, unable to move due to two reasons. One – his energy had been utterly sapped. Two – Jimmy was gone completely, and he had no clue what had happened to him. He should have noticed it earlier. He never sleeps. Even when he was cut off from Heaven, he never slept. However, while he was at the hospital, he had slept. Slept soundly, just like he had seem Dean do so many times in the past.<p>

Dean. He really needed to stop thinking about him. It only made him miserable. He knew it was unavoidable, though. Everything he thought about came back to him. Dean still meant everything to him, just like he had before. He still did everything he did for Dean. So, with this thought in mind, Castiel made it his first priority to find out what had happened to Jimmy.

Castiel fretfully let sleep take him. He slept lightly, but enough to help him substantially heal a bit quicker, which came as a huge asset the next morning when he had to wake up early to avoid coming in contact with the maids that were bound to eventually come in. He was in a half doze when he heard one enter the room, and was immediately wide awake, senses cranked up to eleven.

His body automatically became invisible, going into occultation. His eyes jerked around the room, searching. He was on his hands and knees on the bed, his wings stretched out behind him in defense, despite the fact that he couldn't be seen.

For a moment, he mused to himself how he'd gone from a self-righteous 'mutant angel' to this scared and constantly edgy piece of damaged goods. It would probably look rather odd to someone if they were to see him like this, if they didn't know the current circumstance. However, he had been caught off guard, and so - he was reacting accordingly.

The woman wandered into the room, humming a song he could tell was terribly off tune. He didn't understand why she looked so happy humming that song. Surely she knew she was completely tone deaf. She strolled over to the bed, and Castiel hastily slid off of it before she straightened the crumpled sheets, and re-arranged the pillows.

Suddenly, she started singing out loud,

"What do I do with a boy like you?" she sang, and Castiel flinched, thinking she was talking to him, even though he was still invisible, and with his wings (now puffed out even larger in alarm) still casting an invisible shadow behind him, he obviously wasn't a boy.

Well, he looked like a male, but he was pretty sure his vessel wouldn't be considered a boy anymore. Also, when Castiel thought about it, the question really wouldn't apply to a situation where a human female found a male with wings in a room he wasn't supposed to be in.

Castiel relaxed finally, decidedly blaming the lady for his distraught reaction. The way she had been 'singing' made it sound more like she'd been declaring something. He released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding in (since, of course, he didn't usually breath), letting his wings retract into their place, and quickly made his way out of the door of the motel room.

He would have flown out of the room if he hadn't been afraid of the noise that his wings would have caused, and whether or not the maid would hear it. Well, that, and he really didn't want to waste his energy right away. He needed to...get a hold of someone.

He still had yet to find out what had happened to Jimmy, and the more time he wasted away trying to get his energy back up, the longer Jimmy could be Father knows where having who knows what done to him.

One may not think this would bother Castiel too much, but Jimmy and himself – they'd shared a body. There wasn't a thing one of them felt that the other didn't know about. There were times when he was completely alone that Castiel would let Jimmy wander into consciousness inside his mind, and there, they would talk about things.

From whether they were okay (to which Jimmy would often times offer a sarcastic, yet simple to understand reply, knowing that Castiel was still grasping the concept of sarcasm) to discussing the current situation.

On many occasions, Jimmy would bring up the things that Castiel was feeling, and discuss them. It was like having a therapist in his own mind, almost.

Actually, what their conversation usually came down to was Dean. Especially when talking about feelings, where Dean always seemed to be at the root of them. That had always made Castiel a bit uneasy.

Jimmy had always told him that if he wasn't used to feeling, then whenever he did feel, it would more than likely make him uncomfortable.

In this way, the disconcerted and panicked reaction on Castiel's part made sense. Everything around him that he'd ever had disappeared, or at least wasn't exactly rooting for his well-being. Dean, Sam and Bobby were untraceable, and even if Castiel were to find them, they probably would be angry at him.

As far as he could tell, most of the angels that would have ever be-friend ed him were either dead, or wanted him dead.

Now, he had also lost Jimmy, too – the only person who had been there for him every time time he needed help. He was utterly alone now, and it was destroying Castiel from every possible angle.

Once he had made his way slowly down the stairs, and out of the motel, he found himself outside in a light drizzle that had started over night. He made a noise in his throat that was similar to an acknowledged grunt, and wandered towards a local store. He had some work he had to get done.

A few hours later, Castiel stood in an abandoned alley way. The clouds blanketed the sky, despite the fact that it was still only drizzling. The sharp end of a blade was held flush against his wrist, and he pulled it across his skin, feeling a slight sting, but that was probably, again, because of the fact that Jimmy was no longer inside him.

As blood rushed to the surface, and poured out of the wound, he used his other hand to write on a nearby wall that, thankfully, had an over hang (or else this whole process would have been for naught).

Soon, the symbol of a sigil was etched on the wall in the blood, thin lines dripping down from the area. He then chanted words low in his throat, his voice slowly rising in volume:

_Angelus domini invocabo te lucis et susurros pulvere vos may non consurgant._

All of a sudden, he was spun around, and shoved into the wall with enough force to knock the words out of him. When the spots finally cleared from his eyes, he was face to face with pale blue, almost washed out, blue eyes, and the short blond hair of a male. Though this wasn't a human, it was an angel. The angel's eyes bore into his like a an ice pick, dark eyebrows slanted in hate,

"Why would you call us, you useless abomination?" he asked, tilting his head, though his facial expression didn't change, "Surely you know we want you dead," he remarked, and suddenly Castiel saw a flicker of movement in his eyes, almost like a wave. His eyes widened,

"Kutiel..." he muttered in his monotonous voice, and Kutiel's lips tightened, "I'd say it's good to see you again, brother, but it's not," he snarled. Castiel wasn't surprised at his reaction, he _had_ killed numerous angels during his God-trip, and that really put him on the black list, if anything else he'd done before that hadn't already.

Castiel didn't even flinch when Kutiel pulled the angel blade out of his jacket, and held it behind his head, aimed for Castiel's chest. Castiel didn't struggle. If he died now, it wouldn't make that much of a difference. Everyone either thought he was dead, or wanted him dead. The only thing he had to live right now for was…finding out what happened to Jimmy.

_Jimmy..._

Castiel growled, and despite the fact that he had less 'angel mojo' (as Dean used to call it) than Kutiel. he used the element of surprise to his advantage. His arm shot out, and stopped the arm that was holding the angel blade, twisting it backwards, and making the blade fall onto the ground with a definitive cling. Kutiel, not expecting him to put up a fight, loosened his grip on Castiel, who took that chance to kick the angel blade away, and maneuver out of Kutiel's death grip.

When Kutiel turned around again, they had a stare off. Castiel knew he couldn't die yet. He had to find out what happened to Jimmy. That was more important than this death wish due to the guilt eating away at him from inside. After all, he knew Dean would do the same thing in this situation. He couldn't give up just because he was tired and simply wanted to be done with everything.

Jimmy may need him right now, and that took priority over his own desires.

Then, Castiel heard the flutter of wings, and Kutiel disappeared behind him. Castiel turned around a moment too late, the tip of the angel blade making contact with his chest. He grabbed Kutiel's hands, somehow managing enough strength to keep the blade from moving any further in,

Kutiel's eyes were dark with brash hatred, "You killed your own brothers and sisters, you deserve to die, Castiel," he hissed. Castiel had his teeth gritted, and he cringed at the sting the blade was causing on his still healing body,

"I must attend to something first, Kutiel," he managed to rumble out, "If I am to die, then at least grant me that," his voice sounded tired and pleading, but Kutiel shook his head, "No, my foolish little brother, you will die now, by my own hand," he quipped, and the power behind Kutiel's hand grew until Castiel could barely hold his own. Castiel clamped his eyes shut, knowing this would very well be the end for him, when a voice rang out in the alley,

"That's quite enough Kutiel, now drop the knife."

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><p><em><strong>AN:** Kutiel is the angel of water, which would explain why he appeared before Cas, since it had been raining. As for that voice at the end? Well, the only hint I can give you is that it's another angel, and there will be another angel that will appear after this, too. _

_Thank you to all of the lovely reviews! _

_Reviews help get the creative juices and inspiration flowing! :D _


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N:** Sorry it took me so long, guys, I'm participating in gishwhes, and that has kept me relatively busy lately. Anywho, here's chapter seven! _

_Thank you to all the reviews, favorites, and added alerts! It means a lot! _

_Also, I have a tumblr if you'd like to follow me for whatever reason. It's TheeDevilWearsNada :D _

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><p>Kutiel's hand immediately opened, the blade falling to the ground again. Castiel cracked his eyes open to see the strain clearly on Kutiel's face. He hadn't dropped the blade of his will – he'd been forced to. He peered over Kutiel's shoulder to see a kind eyed, black haired girl standing at the end of the alley, her arms crossed over her chest.<p>

Her hair was up in pigtails, and she wore black and white clothes, as well as copious amounts of makeup on her face, making her look almost like a porcelain doll. She made her way over to Kutiel and Castiel, stopping only to snap a finger, causing the angel blade to vaporize,

Kutiel took a step away from Castiel, glaring at the other angel in anger. His hands were clasped tightly at his sides,

"Why did you stop me, Balthiel?" he growled, "You know what he has done, you know he deserves to die," he spat through tight lips and clenched teeth. Castiel froze _'Balthiel?'_ he thought to himself,_ '...the angel of forgiveness...'_ Balthiel didn't even spare Kutiel a glance as she replied to his words,

"And you know, Kutiel, that no sin can't be forgiven," she said, stopping in front of Castiel, a gentle smile gracing her face, "Castiel, it is nice to see you again," she decreed, and Castiel only barely managed a respectful nod of his head. Balthiel's stormy gray eyes locked with his own blue ones, and then he could feel the angel carding through his mind.

Castiel couldn't have stopped her, even if he had wanted to. He knew, however, that if Balthiel saw what his true intentions were – and that he felt guilt over the matter, she would forgive him without hesitation,

"Castiel, your wings and grace have been torn and broken, and yet, you feel so much guilt for everything you have done," she empathized in a soft voice, and Castiel looked to his feet in what he decided must be shame. He then felt two fingers gently pull his chin back up, and he was again looking into stormy gray eyes,

"Castiel, as I heal the worst of your wounds, consider your sins forgiven. From now on, your existence shall'nt be in danger from the angels of the Garrison," she addressed, the last point seeming to be directed at Kutiel, whom was still lingering behind her, a heated glare fixed on her back.

She raised two fingers from her other hand, and pressed them firmly, yet gently to Castiel's forehead. Castiel whimpered in slight pain as a bone in his wing was snapped back into place, and muscles and skin under the thick feathers knit back together like a fast-forward button.

His Grace slowly returned to its original brightness, and he felt his power being restored. Of course, the guilt was still there, almost stronger than before, in fact, and there were still remnant scars in his wings that he knew would probably always be there.

However, in this moment, he felt strangely content – probably because he'd been freed from his sins – and behind closed eyelids, he saw the face of a man.

The face of the man.

The man that had been in his charge, and still was now.

The man who would always be in his charge.

The man that had become the voice in his head.

The man he had been ordered to grip tight and raise from perdition.

The man who had his mark on his skin, no matter how faint.

The man he'd lost everything for.

The man who taught an Angel how to feel.

"Dean," Castiel whispered.

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><p><em>AN: Well, what did you think? _

_Reviews help me write and edit faster! :D _


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N:** So, this is a really long chapter this time! :) I hope you all enjoy it! Lately, I've been worried about Supernatural. The ratings keep going down, and I sometimes wonder if some of that is due to the loss of Castiel, and more recently, Bobby. I really wish they would stop doing this, they're going to run into problems if they're not careful. _

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and Thank you for all the reviews, Story Alerts, and favorites! _

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><p>"<em>Dean," <em>a voice whispered, and Dean shot up out of bed, a knife that he kept hidden under his pillow firmly clasped between sweaty fingers.

His eyes wandered the room, landing on the form of Sam in the bed just across from him. It looked like the coast was clear, so he slipped the knife back under the pillow, and slid his legs out from under the questionable motel covers.

He reached up for his head, and rubbed it, hoping to alleviate the sudden pulsing pain that had appeared there. His forehead was sweaty, and slowly, Dean realized that so was the rest of his body. He groaned, dropping back across the bed.

He closed his eyes, massaging his head with two fingers. However, instead of being relaxed by the darkness behind his eyelids, bright, almost foggy images flashed across his vision. He made a surprised noise in the back of his throat when he noticed a familiar pair of blue eyes.

"Cas?" he whispered in question., his voice barely audible to anyone but himself.

For a good half an hour, Dean laid on the bed, letting the almost surreal images flash trough his mind over and over until he finally drifted back to sleep, the sound of his name on familiar lips still resonating clearly in his head.

The next morning, however, he managed to convince himself it had just been a dream.

Castiel was sitting in the alleyway, leaning against the brick wall. Kutiel had disappearing, along with the rain, and Balthiel had chosen to stay with him for a while. Castiel tried to tell her she didn't have to, but she stayed anyway, filling the silence with idle chatter.

Castiel couldn't quite decide if he liked that, or found it annoying. Either way, he was grateful for what she had done for him, and so simply allowed her to speak.

Suddenly, however, she stopped speaking, and stood, looking over to the end of the alley. Her face had lost all it's emotion, and turned to stone – the emotionless face of an angel. For a second, the thought bothered Castiel more than what it was that was making her react like this. That is, until a shadow fell across the entrance of the alley, and numerous electrified wings wove their shadows on the ground.

Castiel looked on in a mixture of shock and horror. There, in the alley, stood his older brother, Gabriel. The Gabriel that Lucifer had killed. The brother that had almost given up on Heaven and the Garrison long ago.

"Gabriel?" he questioned, although it wasn't a question, it was more of a statement,

"Hey, little bro! It's been a while, hasn't it?" He proposed, that familiar cocky smile making its way to the surface on his face. Balthiel stood almost protectively in front of Castiel,

"Why are you here, Gabriel?" Balthiel asked in a dangerous tone. Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows in amusement,

"Relaaax, Balthiel, I know father's orders, I have no plan on harming our little bro," he assured the black and white clad angel. Castiel's eyebrows drew down in in confusion,

"Father?...He's...?" Castiel's voice trailed off, and Gabriel's eyes locked onto him once again,

"He's back, Cas," he grinned, "Thanks to you, none the less!" he exclaimed. Then he stopped, and pursed his lips,

"Well, he was back, but only for a little while," he finished, and looked at Balthiel again,

"You can leave now, Balthiel, Cas and I need to talk a bit," Gabriel said with a wink. Balthiel shot him one last glare, before flying away in a twist of air. Castiel understood that Balthiel couldn't exactly disobey direct orders from an arch-angel, and so didn't hold it against the Forgiver for leaving so quickly. Castiel stood warily as Gabriel approached him,

"How are you-" Castiel began, only to be cut off,

"Alive?" Gabriel started, "Well, let's just say that the Garrison needed some of their arch angels back, since most of them turned out to be bad guys and, well, I was one of the few father decided to bring back," he explained simply, with a shrug of his shoulders. He let his hands slide into the pockets of his vessels clothes,

"Also, there needed to be some stronger angels ready, in case the Leviathans were to try to break into heaven.," he said calmly. Castiel gave him a blank look, completely confused at this point,

"How could the Leviathans break into heaven?" he asked. That shouldn't even be possible,

"Oh, it's possible," Gabriel stated with a chuckle, almost as though he could read Castiel's thoughts, "Why do you think dad locked them up so tight in Purgatory?" he asked, amusement shining underneath arched eye brows. Castiel never understood why Gabriel chose to display such emotions at times like these. It was terribly unappealing.

It didn't even cross his mind that his older brother was probably poking fun at him.

Castiel finally spoke again, "I thought they were only a risk to Earth and its' creatures," he admitted, looking utterly befuddled. Gabriel shook his head,

"You're so ignorant, little brother," he chortled, "The Leviathans have God-like power, and father knows that better than anyone, considering he created them," Gabriel explained, and his hands came out of his pockets to emphasize his words. Castiel's head tilted to the side,

"Why doesn't he just destroy them, if they're such a problem?" he asked. The light in Gabriel's eyes filtered away, and his bemused expression morphed into one that was halfway between annoyance, and impatience,

"You should know how dad is. He never destroys his creations – he lets them destroy themselves," Gabriel reminded him with a dark look. Castiel's eyes widened, and he felt a heat pour to his head – the same heat he'd felt when he'd been 'angry' at himself in the hospital, only now this was directed at his father,

"You mean to say father still harbors sympathies for such vile creatures merely because he created them?" he replied, "He's fine with all his creations being in infinite peril because he's not willing to destroy just one?" he question, his grace and wings sparking with heated energy as his eyebrows furrowed in anger.

Gabriel watched him bristle in silence, before shrugging half-heartedly, "Yeah, pretty much," he answered. It was in this moment, Castiel felt something in him snap, and suddenly, there was no wall separating him and the old abandoned building to his left. He took a step back, letting out a quick sigh as plaster and bits of brick fell from the hole in the wall.

Gabriel didn't even blink at Castiel's violent reaction, though the corners of his mouth did twitch up surreptitiously. Castiel's jaw was strung tight, and he was breathing a bit harder. When his brain came back out of its rage, he remembered what he was supposed to be doing in the first place,

"Jimmy," he began, the angered look fading out to a look of concern, "I need to know what happened to Jimmy," he breathed out, and Gabriel quirked a single eyebrow,

"I figured you'd ask that," Gabriel scoffed, and suddenly, there were two fingers pressed against Castiel's forehead, and his vision faded to black.

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><p><em>Well I looked my demons in the eyes,<em>

_laid bare my chest, said "Do your best, destroy me._

_You see, I've been to hell and back so many times,_

_I must admit, you kind of bore me."_

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><p>Castiel woke with a start. He was laying in a freshly mowed lawn. His body ached, a harsh reminder of what he'd probably been sent here for. Jimmy. He hitched himself up on his arms, and looked around. He was in front of...Jimmy's house, if memory served him correctly.<p>

He stood, brushing off the lose pieces of grass that had decided to stick to him, before making his way to the front door. Before he reached it, however, he saw movement in the window of the home, and he stopped, peering in.

Inside, Jimmy and his daughter were playing some kind of game. He'd remembered some lying around an occasional motel room when he'd checked on Dean in the past. Dean and Sam had never played them, but judging by Jimmy's smiling face, they must be enjoyable. Jimmy said something, smiling cheekily, and his daughter rolled her eyes, before laughing.

Then, Jimmy's wife sauntered in from the kitchen holding cookies, and Jimmy and his daughter looked up at her, eyes shining. Jimmy's daughter jumped up, and grabbed two, handing one to her father, who gratefully took it. Jimmy's wife sat down next to him on the couch, sitting the plate of cookies next to the game, and she looked at Jimmy, seemingly asking something.

Jimmy held a hand up to his mouth, swallowing before he spoke, smiling in a way Castiel hadn't seen anyone smile in quite a while. Jimmy's wife joined the game, and soon, they were all laughing, Jimmy's and his wife's finger's were interlaced, and Castiel felt a brief pang in his heart. Holding hands was one of the human habits that Castiel had always been in awe of since the dawn of their creation.

At least father hadn't messed up when he'd created man – even if he had else-where.

Castiel noticed that the slightest of smiles had crept onto his lips, and he put a hand over his mouth as though it were an anomaly – which it was.

Jimmy was in heaven, now – though it was sad that his heaven resembled the life he could have enjoyed, if it hadn't been for Castiel – Jimmy was safe. He was with his family. He was home.

With that, Castiel walked away from the window.

Inside the house, Jimmy caught the sight of a figure walking away from the house, and he smiled. He knew who it had been.

He wished he could tell Castiel, but the angel probably wouldn't remember it. When both himself and Castiel had been trapped by the Leviathan inside his body – the Leviathan hadn't even harmed him.

No, Castiel sent him to heaven just before the Leviathan had gotten to him. As he was leaving, he saw what the Leviathans were doing to Castiel. He couldn't believe his eyes – the angel had endured the kind of pain that would leave a man broken and insane, even in death.

Then again, Castiel was an angel, and he had more than likely endured many pains during his existence – pains a human could never imagine, or comprehend.

Dean was sitting in the waiting room, occasionally taking a sip out of the flask he'd kept in his pocket, despite the annoyed glances he got from the hospital staff.

Okay, maybe it was more like every two minutes, because now the flask was completely empty.

"Dammit," he muttered, looking around like there would be more sitting around in a hospital. His jaw was set tight, and he crossed his arms in annoyance, tapping his foot nervously for something to do.

Sam suddenly plopped down in the flimsy chair next to, sweeping a stray strand of brown hair quickly out of his eyes,

"Here, I brought you something to eat," Sam declared, holding out a package that contained one of those portable pies. Dean glanced at the dark circles under Sam's eyes, which he was sure mimicked his own, before looking back at the warm food in his hand. He grunted,

"I'm not really hungry," he mumbled, and Sam took a small nibble out of his salad, before putting the fork back down, and sighing,

"Yeah, me either," he confessed, setting the salad aside. The stayed there for a while – not talking, and looking at nothing in particular.

It was obvious what they were thinking about, though. Bobby had gotten shot in the head by the leviathan, and now, here they were, in a hospital, hoping – for the sake of their sanity – that the person they'd considered their second father would be able to pull through this.

Dean, in particular, couldn't handle losing someone else again. Especially not Bobby. Dean briefly remembered the time he'd gone to the future, and Bobby had been dead. He wondered if maybe he and Sam could avoid their fates, but everyone else couldn't. Then words he'd once heard come from chapped lips popped into his head,

"_We're making it up as we go,"_

Castiel had admitted, and at the time, Dean had looked over at him in surprise, hearing words coming from the angel's mouth that would probably be something he'd have said.

The past may be the past, but the future – everyone had to power to decide their futures. Whether it may be to destroy it, or to make it better, they made their own decisions, and no one and nothing could control that.

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><p><em>There's a lot of things that can kill a man,<em>

_there's a lot of ways to die,_

_listen, some already did that walked beside me._

_There's a lot of things I don't understand,_

_why so many people lie._

_Its their hurt I hide that fuels the fire inside me._

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><p><em><strong>AN:** Reviews are my sustaining life force - I need them! :D_


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N: Well, I finally bring you chapter 9, everyone! I do hope you enjoy it! _**

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><p><em>Though I knit my brow, my gaze is fixed longingly anyway.<em>

_Though I check my tongue, this tortured face of mine dissolves in a smile._

_Though I drive my heart to hardness, my body bears the gooseflesh of desire._

_When I see that man, how on earth can my anger survive?_

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><p>Castiel was now a ways away from Jimmy's house, and was taking his time walking along the sidewalk as he thought to himself.<p>

He would have left already, if he could have, but he was kind of stuck in Jimmy's heaven until Gabriel let him out.

This annoyed him, and every once in a while he'd fidget impatiently, knowing all too well that every second that went by here could easily be hours back on Earth.

All he could think about now was getting to Dean. He could feel Dean even better now, his distressed feelings almost strong enough to effect Castiel's own, which really meant something.

He could sense that Dean was gravely concerned for Bobby, and that was really starting to worry Castiel. Especially since it had been going on this whole time. Castiel clenched his hands at his sides, willing in his mind for Gabriel to appear – to get him out of here and to Dean, Sam and Bobby.

To his surprise (and annoyance) Gabriel suddenly popped up directly in front of him, making Castiel almost fall back in shock. He managed to catch himself, however, and took a deep breath, trying to relax.

Gabriel had already fixed Castiel with a cheeky grin, his eyes sparkling in amusement,

"Whoops, sorry about that, Cassie," he apologized non-chalantly. Castiel shot him a glare,

"My name is Castiel, and I'd like you to use it accordingly," Castiel growled at the shorter angel. Gabriel just laughed wholly,

"You're boyfriend's the only one who gets to use a nickname? Cute~" he chortled, referring to Dean. Castiel grunted in annoyance,

"Gabriel, I need to get out of here," Castiel managed, voice obviously straining under the pressure to remain sounding calm . Gabriel's grin widened,

"Just a bit testy, aren't we?" he inquired, and Castiel's eye brows furrowed in frustration. Why did Gabriel always have to make things hard? He knew how important it was that Castiel get out of this place. Not that that meant anything to Gabriel. Actually, there wasn't much of anything that mattered to Gabriel. It was all just fun and games with him. If holding you back amused him, then he didn't give a rats ass about what problems you had on your plate.

Castiel was going to have to find a way to bargain with him.

"Gabriel," he began in a calm, yet cold as ice tone. Gabriel raised an eyebrow in curiosity before Castiel spoke again, "If you let me out, I'll be able to take care of the boys, and then, they'll be able to find a way to exterminate the Leviathans," he reasoned, hoping Gabriel would see the logic in this. Gabriel crossed his arms, looking up in thought,

"Hmm...it's tempting, but I think I deserve a little more than that, don't you think, little bro?" he asked, the mischievious gleam in his eyes as prominent as ever. Castiel sighed, and rubbed his head with two fingers,

"What, then Gabriel? What is it exactly that you want?" he asked, knowing that Gabriel already had something in mind by the way he spoke. Gabriel laughed, and though Castiel couldn't see him, he knew Gabriel had a look victory slapped across that obnoxious face of his.

"Well, what I really wanted was some time with your floppy haired moose friend," he started, "I've heard whispers that he's been seeing Lucifer, and I must admit, it's got me quite curious," he finished, and Castiel opened his eyes, defeat obvious in his gaze. So, Gabriel wanted to talk to Sam for a while? He wasn't sure the boys would exactly like that idea, but at this point, Castiel really didn't have a choice. He needed to get out of there. Now.

"Okay," Castiel said finally. Gabriel smiled,

"Alrighty, it's a deal then!" he said happily,

"Now, off yo-" Castiel cut him off before the angel could snap his fingers and transport him back to Earth,

"Wait! Where exactly are Sam and Dean?" he asked hurriedly. Gabriel tilted his head to the side with a smile,

"Oh, telling you just wouldn't be any fun," he taunted, before snapping his fingers. Castiel didn't even have the chance to growl or comment before he felt his body being thrust through time and space. This being said, he didn't see the look on Gabriel's face as he disappeared.

Something unusual – something that rarely graced the arch angel's features – suddenly appeared upon his face.

It was a look of horror.

He couldn't feel where Castiel had gone.

In fact, instead of feeling the usual sensation of guiding a soul gently to it's destination, he only felt cold claws blocking him every time his mind reached out for Castiel's grace.

"Where..." he began muttering, looking at his hands, "Dammit! Where is he?" He looked around, eyes wide, before snapping his fingers and disappearing in haste.


End file.
